


In Sickness

by Msynergy



Category: Dragon Age, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-06
Updated: 2015-07-25
Packaged: 2018-04-08 01:40:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 9,951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4285764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Msynergy/pseuds/Msynergy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When he said he’d stick around for a little while in case of trouble, this wasn’t what he had in mind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> All right, here we go folks, my very first Dragon Age fanfic ever, and naturally it involves Varric and Cassandra. I hope you enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Don't own them, never will. Just playing in the sandbox.

In hindsight, it really had been only a matter of time.

Numerous peoples from all walks of life, all coming to live in a cold, confined space; it was a damn miracle it hadn’t happened during the war with Corypheus.

But now the other shoe had dropped, and everybody was vomiting in it.

Varric scrunched his nose.

Even the Inquisitor had fallen victim to the virile stomach sickness, and the Commander was seen less and less in at his desk as he attended his beloved. Maybe it was the ex-Templar’s sheer willpower that kept him from catching the small plague, but he was one of the few humans whom hadn’t succumbed in Skyhold.

Him, and…

Varric smirked, catching her moving form as he wandered out into the sharp morning air after a long night of writing. His plans to return to Kirkwall weren’t dead per se, but it had been made clear he was still needed by the Inquisition by its leader herself, and he had been planning to chronicle all the ridiculous feats they’d managed to pull out of their asses, so there he stood on stairs leading to the great hall, taking in the visibly empty courtyard with exception to the Seeker.

It still was the wee small hours yet, but the lack of merchants and Skyhold staff usually bustling about morning chores was not lost on him. The illness was survivable, the healers had quickly assured, but it wasn’t easy to dispatch either, and between the fever and aches and losing every meal you just ate, full recovery took time.

Not for the first time he thanked his dwarven constitution and its resistance to most disease. He wasn’t surprised that Cassandra hadn’t succumbed either, she barely broke a sweat taking down dragons, something as silly as becoming sick to her stomach was well beneath her–

“Her muscles strain under the ache, breathing too hard. Nothing stays down, but must train, be ready–”

He might have jumped and swore before, but now Cole’s entrances garnered a mere jolt of his shoulders and a quick snap of his head.

“Cole, we’ve talked about looking in on other people’s heads, it’s not–”

“But she’s not well. She won’t let me help. She listens to you.”

Varric snorted.

“Since when has Seeker Cassandra ‘Disgusted-Noise’ Pentaghast ever–”

He’d turned back to watch the woman in question as he reprimanded Cole, and the rest of the spirit’s words sunk in.

What at first glance had only seemed to be her morning training as usual now seemed strained. Every slash of her sword and bash with her shield was stilted, as if holding the weapons up was struggle enough, much less using them. Even from a distance he could see how her chest rose and fell irregularly, just breathing under her armor a chore. Something was wrong, and his feet were moving down the steps before he realized it, Cole forgotten.

Stopping just short of sword-range, however, Varric sucked in a breath.

“Maker’s breath, Seeker, you look like shit.”

He wasn’t joking, either. Her normally striking features were taunt and a telling shade of green, crown-braid off center as she whirled on him, armor haphazard like she’d barely managed to strap it on.

Her mouth opened to give what he was sure was a scathing retort, but then her eyes widened as she lurched forward, weapons dropped, and she promptly threw up all over his shoes.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My blushes! You dear readers are the best! I hope you enjoy this chapter as much as the first!

It was fair to say that his footwear wasn’t salvageable. No matter how hard he shook his legs and smacked the arches against the dummy posts to remove the contents of Cassandra’s stomach, he was never going to get that smell completely out. But compared to the other perilous task before him, it seemed doable.

“For the last time, Varric, I will buy you a new pair of boots and I can make it to my own room! There is no need–”

“Seeker, your ‘room’ is a thin bedroll on the top, open floor of the forge. And seeing as it’s your breakfast on my boots I think I get some say in where you rest up. Now, let’s go!”

Her accent was thicker thanks to her raw throat, and combined with the still green shade infusing her face, it did not convince him that she was best on her own. The point was driven home when she opened her mouth to argue, and promptly shut it again, swallowing hard. He raised a pointed brow as she glared at him before letting out an “Ugh! Fine!” and allowed him to lead them away from the training grounds.

She’d barely made it a few steps, however, when she started to sway, and when he stepped closer, tentatively wrapping an arm around her waist, she leaned heavily against him.

“Whoa, there. I may be strong, but no way can I carry you the rest of the way. Just gotta walk a little further, all right?”

She snorted despite herself, “I’m not that heavy.”

“And I am _not_ getting into that conversation with you right now, if ever.”

She mumbled something that sounded like “Smart man,” and if it was ever in doubt before, he knew she was definitely ill after hearing that.

The thought occurred to him as they resumed their walk that he could still drop her off at the makeshift sick ward, but the healers already had their hands full with the very young and very old of Skyhold’s inhabitants. No way would he convince a woman like Cassandra to let someone tend her when others needed help, so his room was the only place left where he could make sure she got some rest.

Making their way back behind stone walls, and up one flight of stairs to stop at an unassuming wood door, she’d been strangely quiet for the entire trip, and she didn’t even have anything to say about his cluttered quarters when he saw them through the entrance and carefully sat her down on the bed.

Her breathing was irregular again, and he belatedly realized the reason for her silence. The Seeker had been entirely focused on finding the energy to match his step, because asking him to slow down was apparently one blow too many to her pride. He didn’t know if he wanted to yell at her for being so damn stubborn, or kick himself for not noticing sooner, but the look of absolute exhaustion on her face ended up deciding for him. He’d do both, but later. He had more important things to focus on at the moment.

“If I help you get the first layer off, you think you can handle the rest?” he motioned to the armor she insisted on wearing at all times, and she nodded slowly. She barely moved as Varric unstrapped and divested, her eyes focused on some far off point, and given the choice he’d have taken her barbs and glares over her current state any day.

He’d grown used to the status quo between them, the banter and the occasional, surprisingly civil conversation. He’d discovered a sharp wit and dry humor underneath that scowl and sword, and when she wasn’t trying to strangle him she could be truly kind, even tender. But she still had kept plenty of guards up, and that she would allow him to physically dismantle one of those defenses now spoke to just how terrible she felt. Worry bloomed cold and dreadful in his chest, and he tried to ignore it by focusing on the task at hand.

He failed miserably, but her gloves, chest plate, belts, and boots were all eventually removed, and he turned to deposit the garb on a nearby chair as she unfastened the padded jacket left behind. Turning back, however, he noticed how she struggled to focus on the clasps, and stepped forward. Her eyes caught the movement, slowly looking up to meet his, and her face broke his heart.

The frustration and pain and weariness were first and foremost on her features, but behind it was something else… Fear, he realized. Fear at just how helpless she truly was in the vice grip of sickness, and while he didn’t want to make it worse, the jacket would not be comfortable resting attire.

“Hey, it’s all right to ask your friends for help sometimes, Seeker. I won’t tell anybody, I promise.”  

He edged closer, hands raised, the question floating between them, when she finally closed her eyes and sighed, dropping her own hands.

“If you could…”

“Of course.”

With the help of his swift fingers she was free of the heavy garment fast, and he left her to shrug it off as he searched for his chamber pot. Thanking Andraste and her blessed tits that the few staff still working had come by that morning to clean up such necessities, he grabbed the item and brought it to rest just below the bed. Looking back up he saw she’d made herself comfortable on the thick quilt, and his mouth went dry.

It wasn’t like she was sprawled out in her small clothes by any means, but the sleeveless purple tunic was as well fit as her trousers, and he could see every part of her torso pressed against the fabric. A life of combat had not been completely unkind, and muscles rippled and stretched as she tried to make herself comfortable.

“I’m sorry for taking your bed. If you wish, I can take the floor. I just needed to lay down for a mom–”

She’d mistaken his scrutiny for displeasure at her commandeering his mattress, and he started as if burned. Maker, he was an ass, looking her over when she felt so awful–

“No! No, don’t worry about it. You need a decent place to rest, that’s why I brought you here in the first place. Now, there’s a pot here should you need it, and I’m going to go find some water and maybe pinch a tonic or two from the healers so you can eat something without it coming back to haunt both of us.”

She took in his instruction with nod, her breathing better than before but the pain still obvious in her face.

He felt the need to say, to do something more, like pat her arm reassuringly and crack a shitty joke about finally getting her into his bed. It wasn’t like he wasn’t curious to know just how soft her skin was…but before that dangerous thought could go further he spun on his heel for the door.

She, however, continued to unintentionally throw him off kilter.

Her hand was calloused but warm in his, and when he swiveled to see why she’d stopped him, it combined with her sheepish expression to make his thoughts go from dangerous to damn near fatal.

“I– Maker knows, I have done little to deserve your kindness, Varric, but– thank you. It’s difficult for me to admit when I need help, but you have made it easier.”

His hand squeezed hers automatically, his heart clenching simultaneously, but he tried his best to grin all the same.

“You’re welcome, Seeker. Can’t have people seeing you out of sorts or this whole damn Inquisition could come crashing down around our ears. Try and relax for once, and I’ll be back before you know it.”

Letting go of her hand was one of the hardest things he’d ever done, especially when, even as sick as she was, the corners of her mouth curled in a slight smile at his words.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So when it comes to Cassandra, I’ve been trying to write to that feeling of when you’re sick and force yourself to work it’s like the life is being sucked out of you, but when you’re finally in bed things start feeling normal again. I figure it also helps morale that Varric’s looking after her now, but at the same time she can’t let him see her vulnerable for too long. :P 
> 
> P.S. If any of you are “Firefly” fans, I left a little Easter egg in this chapter for you!

He’d been fairly successful, all in all.

They’d given him plenty of funny looks when he’d shown up healthy to the sick ward, but a brief whisper in the surgeon’s ear had been all it took to spur them into action.

The spoils included a tray loaded with simmering tea in kettle that the healers had promised would dim the nausea, pain powders, water, and a small plate of plain biscuits just in case she was ready to try and eat something. Not a bad haul.

Managing to open the door to the impromptu sickroom with tray in hand, however, his own stomach lurched at the sound of her retching.

As quickly as he could Varric placed the tray on the little space his messy desk provided and stepped back to her side, lifting the pot so she was not halfway dangling off the bed in an attempt to avoid puking on the blanket she’d managed to crawl under. Except there was nothing in her stomach after the previous expulsion, and he winced in sympathy as she spat stomach acid and groaned.

Setting the pot back down when she was finished, he perched himself on the edge of the mattress without thinking, her frown telling him everything he needed to know about how she felt concerning this latest development.

“So…how about some of the tea the healers gave me for your nausea?” he asked a little too brightly.

Her frown deepened, and she pulled the quilt up and over her head in response.

It seemed the relaxation she’d managed while he was gone had ushered in the return of her usual “I’m a Seeker and I’m above all of this shit” attitude. His wish had been granted; she was returning to her old self.

Relief and annoyance fought for claim inside his chest as he replied, “I’ll take that as a ‘no.’ I guess I’ll have to drink all that water by myself then.”

The blanket slid slowly back down, and she eyed him cautiously.

“Water?”

“Yup, that pitcher over there is full of it. How about we make a deal? I’ll hand over the water if you try some tea afterwards. I’d hate to have climbed all the way here with it just to see the kettle go cold.”

Perhaps it was a bit of an underhanded tactic, but he knew Cassandra hated to see provisions go to waste. He’d lost track of how many times he’d watched her go after Dorian for being picky about the food they were packed on missions. The Tevinter mage really needed to count his lucky stars that she hadn’t force-fed him on more than one occasion.

“Ugh, all right. I’ll try it.”

He happily stood and poured the respective liquids into two mugs at her croaked acquiescence and returned to his seat, watching intently as she managed to prop herself up for a few slow sips of water then tea. She couldn’t hide her disgust at tasting the latter, but to her credit she forced down a couple more swallows all the same.

“It’s probably a shit thing to ask at this point, but how are you feeling? And before you say anything, know I can tell when you’re lying, so don’t make me spike your water with pain powder,” he stated matter-of-factly, taking one mug then the other back when she motioned and placing them on the bedside table.

Cassandra plopped back down onto her pillow with one eye open, gauging him.

“I will not need the pain powder, but the tea isn’t trying to return, so…thank you.”

Warmth spread through him at the thought that he was actually helping, but he also couldn’t help but preen just a little. If she was coming back into her own, then he’d follow her lead.

“I think I can count on one hand the number of times you’ve ever thanked me Seeker, and two of those have been today. I’m impressed!”

Suddenly realizing just how close he was on his perch as Cassandra settled back down underneath the quilt, Varric wondered what to do next, trying not to fidget as he sat.

“If you want to kick me out just say so,” he finally blurted, shattering the silence, “I’m afraid nursing somebody back to health has never been a particular skill set I’ve needed to acquire.”

She canted her head, seeming to consider the offer, and he was already standing up when she grasped his hand once more.

Still just as rough, but it was clammy now, and the worry he’d managed to tamp down crawled right back up and lodged itself in his throat. Just because she was already acting more like herself, he realized, didn’t negate the fact that she was still sick. Maybe he needed to put that pain powder in her water after all; it was supposed to help with fever…

“Stay.”

It was a command, but she couldn’t hide the plea threaded through it that snapped him back to reality like a bowstring, and Varric didn’t need to be told twice. Only taking his hand back to retrieve his desk chair, he made himself comfortable next to her curled up form.

Her face was undeniably paler now without the green tint, which meant the tea was at least doing its job. The sight didn’t assuage his concerns much, however, and he itched to take her hand back in his, but kept still as they looked each other over.

“I’ve been writing about this whole crazy place, you know,” he stated, breaking the silence again.

“Writing?” she asked, immediately perking up.

He smirked.

“Well, yeah. Somebody has to write down all the shit that’s happened around here. Not that anybody will ever really believe it, but that’s what we get for being big damn heroes.”

She smirked back, fighting the smile that had come so easy before, and for a long moment he wished she didn’t feel the need to hide it.

“So tell me the story,” she replied.

“You lived it, Seeker. Why would–”

“It will put me to sleep.”

“Oh, ha ha, very funny.”

“Well?”

“All right, fine. But only because you’re sick.”

She smiled. It was small, but it more than made up for her jab at his creative prowess. 

From memory he wove the tale they’d already survived until her breathing slowed and eyes closed, her hand finding his once more before she was lost to dreams.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Because it wouldn't be a sickfic without some nightmares and comfort. :P

He must have fallen asleep as well, because when he looked up next the lone light from the thin glass window of his room was long gone.

In the cool dark, however, he could hear just what had woken him, and quickly found a candle to light before reaching for the small window latch.

The bird barely fit through the opening, but happily landed on his arm, obviously tired. Taking the rolled message from its leg, and setting it aside, he broke off a piece of the bread neither he or Cassandra had eaten and offered it up, nearly losing his fingers in the process.

“Ow! You’re hungry, I get it. Feel free.”

Varric lowered his arm and the crow eagerly hopped down to feast as he turned his attention back to the message it’d brought.

The minute the paper unraveled he recognized the small, concise script.

_Cass sick? Confirm. Leliana._

How the new Divine knew exactly where to send the damn bird he didn’t want to know, but her concern was clear, and he had to appreciate that no matter how far she’d risen, the old Inquisition Spymaster looked after her own.

Finding a small sheet of his own and some ink and a quill, he scratched out a response he hoped would suffice.

_Sick, but better. Resting now. Varric._

Waiting for the ink to dry, he looked up to see the messenger had nearly demolished one of the biscuits, and rolled the small sheet before whistling low and offering his arm once more.

“Hope you had enough for the fly back home,” he smirked, securing the note to the bird’s leg. It cawed low, and Varric pressed a finger to his lips before seeing it to the window.

Black feathers disappeared with a strong flap into the night, and he closed the window behind it, rubbing at his neck.

Allowing himself to fall asleep in a chair hadn’t been one of his better choices in a while, but now he was up so…

“No…Please!…”

He’d always joked with the others that Cassandra didn’t sleep, she merely waited. But as he turned towards her voice he realized she was still definitely asleep, and definitely having a nightmare.

She twitched and mumbled more, sweat beading on her brow, and when he briefly touched her forehead he almost cursed at the heat. But as she twisted under the blankets, he had to decide: wake her or no?

The decision was made for him when she suddenly shouted, as painful a cry as he’d ever heard, and his heart wrenched as he sat down beside her.

“Seeker. Seeker! Cassandra, wake up!”

She bolted up in bed, nearly headbutting him with fingers in a death grip on his quilt, kohl eyes smudged and panicked, braid entirely undone and hanging down her neck. When when she saw him in the low light, she fell back to her pillow with a sucking breath, moving an arm to cover her eyes.

He knew the move well, and his own eyes stung.

“Hey, it’s all right.”

His hand moved to her stomach on instinct, wanting to comfort but also not wanting to draw attention to her emotional display.

Even with the blanket, he could feel the width of her waist, and while he knew her to be bigger than most human women, his hand still easily covered the expanse.

Starting with slow, small circles, he stopped when she tensed, but then she relaxed again, and he continued rubbing soothingly, hoping he was doing some good. As her breathing evened out, however, he remembered the hot touch of her forehead, and knew he’d have to address it before the night was out.

“Cassandra?”

He rarely used her first name, and if he did it was usually in jest. But the way he spoke those three syllables tonight ensured her attention, and she wiped hastily at her face before looking up at him. As he moved his hand from her stomach slowly, she shivered despite the heat of her blanket and his limb. The sight put what he had to say into sharp focus, and he mentally stomped on the persistent thought that he shouldn’t have moved his hand at all before speaking.

“You’re burning up. I doubt the fever helped with the nightmares.”

“I was not having a–”

She stopped at his pointed look, looking down at her fingers as they picked at wayward quilt threads before finding her courage again and meeting his gaze.

“I am fine, Varric. I’ve survived much worse.”

“Doesn’t mean you have to make it harder on yourself now, Seeker. That pain powder will help with the fever, which help you sleep, so you can get better faster and escape. Don’t you want to get out of here, and start stabbing things again as soon as possible?”

Her expression was as inscrutable as only she could make it, and Varric back treaded over his words, wondering how what he just said could be wrong. It was logical and neat, two things she loved. What was–

“Bring me the powder, Varric.”

He startled.

“Wow, really? That worked?”

She glared.

“All right, all right, I’ll get it. Glad you’re seeing reason, Seeker.”

“Perhaps it was simply confusing to hear reason coming from you, Varric.”

He laughed, standing to grab the small bowl and spoon and bring it over to her water mug, scooping one spoonful into the liquid and stirring.

“Stranger things have happened, Seeker. A giant green hole in the sky is just one of the many things that comes to mind. Now, drink up!”

He placed the cup in her hands, and she swallowed the contents in one large gulp.

After taking the cup back and nodding his approval, Varric set about building up a decent flame in the small fireplace across from them. Skyhold was an amazing place, but it was still stone and wood, and did nothing to help keep in heat at night in the Frostbacks.

He could feel her eyes on his back as he did so, scrutinizing. For what, he didn’t know. Finishing the fire, however, he looked up to see if the powder had taken hold and stopped, stunned.

Even a blind man would know of her beauty, but in that moment, scowl gone, hair chaotic, and eyes closed as she buried her face in his pillow, she was precious. She would laugh in his face if he ever said as much, but it didn’t make it any less true. It was one of the few, true talents of his people, spotting the rare and worthy, and now that he saw her, he never wanted to see anything else.

But a jaw-cracking yawn of his own broke the spell, and he hadn’t truly allowed it to sink in until then, but he was just as tired as she was. Retrieving a second pillow and digging out his own bedroll, Varric made himself comfortable on the floor by her side.

If the powder wore off and she had another nightmare, he wanted to be ready.


	5. Chapter 5

Years of adventures had never quite acclimated Varric to sleeping on hard surfaces; he was just too much of a city-dweller not to appreciate a soft bed he supposed. So while waking up with an aching back was not intolerable, it was definitely annoying.

Rolling to one side in an attempt to ease pinched nerves, however, he glanced up to see the occupant of his bed glaring down at him.

“Morning, Seeker,” he greeted, rising with a grimace.

“You slept on the floor of your own room.”

“You must be feeling better if you’re stating the obvious,” he grinned wide.

It was true, she did not look so pale and green at the same time, but he could tell she was not completely well just yet.

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why did you sleep there?”

“Well, you’re taking up the space I’d otherwise occupy, and while I am a rogue, I am not a complete asshole. I wasn’t going to make you share–”

“You could have used one of the visitor rooms, we have plenty that are vacant. Why did you choose the floor?”

“You don’t remember?”

She frowned.

“Remember what?”

“You woke up last night, or rather I woke you up. It wasn’t fun. No way was I gonna leave you alone if it happened again.”

Her eyes widened, then he saw the memory emerge, and Andraste’s tits, was she blushing?

“I–I do not remember.”

It was, by far, the biggest lie he’d ever heard her tell, but whether it was the fatigue that still clung to him or her own worn, haunted expression as she avoided his eyes, he decided discretion would win out for now.

“Eh, no big deal. You hungry? I can go find us something.”

Her gaze snapped to his, no doubt expecting more of a fight, but his back was killing him and his stomach grumbled as if on cue.

“What happened to the bread you brought yesterday?” she asked, nodding to the plate still on his desk.

“Your powers of observation continue to astound me, Seeker.”

“Varric…”

“All right, you got me. A little bird dropped by with a message. I felt it only right to be a good host while writing a reply.”

Cassandra frowned.

“A little bird…Leliana? Why would she…”

The answer dawned.

“How–?”

“I’ve given up trying to understand how she knows the things she does, Seeker. The bigger picture here is that she was concerned about you, so I gave her an update.”

“Which will give her all kinds of other ideas,” Cassandra’s frown became a scowl.

Is that such a bad thing? The question hung on the edge of his tongue, and his lips pursed to prevent their escape. Of course it was a bad thing; he mentally smacked himself. It’d been easy to forget with them tucked away in his room, but soon she would be well again, the touches and smiles fading into memory. The thought panged, but he tried his best to ignore it.

“Well, Seeker, you can’t blame her. It was only a matter of time before you fell for my roguish charms.”

He waggled his eyebrows for good measure, and she scoffed, shaking her head. But he caught a glimpse of a smile, and it warmed a place inside he thought long extinguished. Damn, this was going to be harder than he thought.

“So, feel like testing your stomach? I can go find something more palatable than bricks masquerading as bread. I’m surprised the crow didn’t choke.”

She looked at the plate then back to him, that same inscrutable look on her face as last night.

“Seeker?” he asked again, and she blinked fast as if breaking from some kind of trance.

“I’m sorry, I was– thinking.”

“That tough a question to answer? You sure you’re feeling better?”

If Cassandra were just a little less serious of a person he suspected she would have stuck her tongue out at him, but instead she merely glowered.

“Go get us some breakfast dwarf, and don’t forget the tea.”

“Yes ma’am,” he mock bowed, and barely dodged a pillow aimed at his head.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A smaller segue chapter, before the plunge. So to speak. ;)

Getting breakfast had taken a little longer than he’d originally planned thanks a detour to requisitions to find a new pair of boots. It wasn’t an easy feat with so few dwarfs in the Inquisition, and those responsible for doling out supplies weren’t awake yet to help, but the search gave him time to consider the recent development of his feelings for a certain sick Seeker.

Varric couldn’t deny her ability to attract and terrify him simultaneously, but what he was feeling now was something…else, something…more. If he were completely honest with himself, it wasn’t all that recent an occurrence either. And seeing as he made a point of never being completely honest with anybody, much less himself, the fact that he was willing to acknowledge that thought was proof enough of his feelings.  

But what could come of such acknowledgement? Despite their slow crawl from reluctant allies to tentative friends, what reason did she have to ever see him as anything but the abrasive, deceitful dwarf she’d dragged kicking and screaming out of Kirkwall? Guys like him didn’t court dragon-slaying princesses, the best he could hope for would be to become a better friend to her from this experience. It would be enough, it had to be.

Decision made and boots found, Varric tossed his old pair into the first fire he saw and quickly made his way to the kitchens, step fast as he brought the spoils back to his waiting patient.

So fast, in fact, that he nearly ran right into one of the few servant girls still working, and her blush grew exponentially at the sight of him.

“I am so sorry, Master Varric! If I’d know you’d had– Please tell Lady Cassandra I’m sorry again, I must go!”

He blinked as she rushed past him, and then her words sank in.

Ah, shit.

* * *

He laughed.

“It isn’t funny, Varric! That poor girl nearly fainted when she saw me! Leliana will be the least of concern now once word gets out!”

He barely reined in his mirth, just barely, and Cassandra fumed even more.

“Seeker, drink your tea.”

“I will not! This is serious and–”

“Cassandra, Dorian’s rumors have had us screwing each other’s brains out for months now. Scaring one servant girl isn’t going to make things worse.”

A speared fish couldn’t look more surprised, he thought. Had she really been that unaware of the whispers surrounding their interactions? Apparently, she had, because all too quickly her shock turned to fury.

“I’m going to tie that mage to the main gate by his toes!”

She moved like she was going to go find him right then and there, but when Varric stopped her he realized too late she’d taken the time while he was away to remove some more clothing for comfort, like her trousers. His hand skirted under the quilt while halting her movements, and now his fingers rested atop one of her bare knees. 

Her breath hitched at the touch, and he desperately tried not to focus on how soft but firm her leg felt as he jerked back. Steel wrapped in silk, his fingers ached to touch more, but he made a fist against the temptation.

She was still sick, chunks of short hair sticking out at all angles, her face worn from pain and exhaustion, and he wanted to kiss every inch…

“Varric?”

“Hm?”

She opened her mouth then closed it, seeming to think of something better before answering, “I won’t tie him to the main gate, not today anyway.”

He chuckled despite himself, and she slipped those gorgeous legs of hers back under the quilt, leaning back against her propped up pillow. It was no use now though, Varric thought, he knew what the blanket covered, and it would be a sunny day in the Fade before he forgot. 

“So…uh…I convinced the cook to give up some honey to go with those cakes. How about it?”

“‘Convinced’ as in stole?”

“Hey, I know you know most of my secrets already, but let me have this, all right, Seeker?”

She smiled, well and truly smiled, and Varric Tethras realized just how far he’d fallen.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Likely looking at just a couple more chapters after this one. Thank you all again for reading!

Propped up against the headboard by her pillow, Cassandra ate slowly, and the cake stayed in her stomach. The fever seemed to have broken for good too, two major improvements. But despite her outward restlessness after finishing breakfast, he knew she was hurting more than she let on by the tension around her eyes and mouth. As Varric’s concerns fell on deaf ears, however, a knock on his door cut their argument short. It appeared word had gotten out even faster than usual about just where Skyhold’s resident Seeker of Truth had disappeared.

The first visitor was Bull, and the bed groaned under his weight as he tried not to crack his horns on the wall one side of the bed rested against. He wasn’t completely successful, and Varric smirked from his own seat, which he’d dragged back to his desk to go over some neglected paperwork while Cassandra had her visit.

“Heard you caught the shit that’s been floating around this place, and if you haven’t and I’m interrupting something, feel free to kick me out. The maid wasn’t that coherent,” the Qunari stated bluntly with a wink, earning her scoff before opening his hand to reveal something tied with leather and presenting it to her.

White, long, and sharp. A dragon’s tooth, Varric realized, papers already forgotten.

Cassandra accepted the necklace, turning the tooth carefully over in her hands. There was a pronounced chip on one side, and she raised a brow at Bull.

“Yep, it’s from the one you ran a sword through the roof of its mouth into its brains. So badass! Well, I pried one of the smaller teeth out before Josie’s cronies could mount it, and while I know you’re not into stuff like this, consider it a get-well present.”

The Seeker smirked, and after a moment placed the leather hoop over her head to rest on her neck, the tooth dangling dangerous and bright against her shirt.

Bull whistled low, “Looks good on you Cassandra, you should wear bone more often. How about a set of armor made of the stuff? I think I could help find–”

She rolled her eyes.

“Enough. Thank you for the gift, Bull.”

“Anytime, Seeker.”

Bull’s visit had only heralded more visitors. The majority of humans in the Inquisition’s inner circle were also recovering from the illness, but by suppertime Cullen, Cole, and even Sera had come calling. The Commander updated them on Evie’s condition, apparently the Inquisitor was just as surly a patient as Cassandra, and Sera surprised Varric by her gentleness when she asked the Seeker how she was feeling. Cole out of them all had brought lunch, and Varric watched with no small amount of wonder at how Cassandra convinced him to try a berry or two off her plate.

Despite being more human than spirit now, the kid rarely ate, and as he tried some fruit he pulled faces so hysterical he even had the Seeker laughing. Seeing the ghost-boy and his tray to the door, however, Cole said something that had him stewing for the rest of the afternoon.

“Surprise, he cares. Pain before, heat now. Weary, wish, wonder, churning like sick, but not.”

He couldn’t even scold the kid for mind reading again, because by the time he shook off the shock Cole was long gone.

At least fresh faces had seemed to stem some of the Seeker’s cabin fever, and Cassandra read one of his books contentedly through the rest of the afternoon. But as the light faded the projects Varric had been trying to tie up on paper were woefully incomplete, his mind still trying to wrap itself around Cole’s words.

For all his efforts to deny it, tendrils of something like hope had started to wrap themselves up in his chest. She hadn’t been able to hide the fire in her gaze when his hand had pressed to her leg, but the kid’s observation had definitely suggested she felt more. The person he’d been leaving Kirkwall would have thought him mad for the way the hope wrapped even tighter at the thought, but much had changed, they had changed. Just where that change could take them…well–

“Varric–”

For now, he would see her well, and despite the good humor all her company had left behind, the slight shake of her hand she set the book aside told him she still needed more rest.

“Yeah, Seeker?”

Again, she looked ready to say something then changed her mind.

“Sera mentioned Dorian has caught this as well?”

“Yeah, just after you she said, so he’s probably curled up somewhere completely miserable with Bull trying to take care of him.”

She considered the information, then nodded, “Good. Maybe I won’t tie him to the main gate after all.”

Varric chuckled, “I’m so glad I’m in your good graces now, Seeker.”

“Whoever told you that you were?”

He frowned, then saw the mirth in her eyes.

“I’m so glad all the tender care I’ve been providing is working,” he grumbled, and it was her turn to chuckle.

But shortly after a frown replaced the laughter and he frowned back.

“What?”

“I–I am doing much better now. I’ve taken plenty of your time already, if I need to return to my quarters I can–”

He was by her side in a flash, one large hand cover both of hers where they fidgeted on her stomach.

It was a marvelously amusing tick he’d discovered about her. She couldn’t stop moving, even bedridden; full of nervous energy that he was sure had driven her family up the walls. She went very still under his hand, though, and those eyes he’d always thought better suited to the beasts her family was famous for hunting pierced his; watching, waiting.

“You stay as long as you need, Cassandra. You do, and have done, so much for everyone here; nobody’s going to complain while you get over this shit. And if they do, they’ll answer to me. Bull can hold them down while I punch and–”

Fierce, warm, passionate, soft…the adjectives flew through his mind as he tried to put words to Cassandra Pentaghast hugging him for all she was worth.

He hugged her back instinctively, thick fingers tangling in the long, lone strand of hair that trailed down her back. The hair free of her braid felt like silk, draped across cloth-covered muscle that could cleave a shade in two, a juxtaposition that only she could pull off, that he was drawn to, the proverbial moth to flame.  

But then something came between them, sharp and searing as it dug into his skin, and Varric pulled back with a hiss as it sliced him further.

“Maker’s breath! Varric, your chest!”

He dared to look down, and saw a decent sized scratch matting his chest hair with blood.

“I think your tooth got me, Seeker,” he said, looking back up to nod at the gift still draped around her neck, the tip red.

“Damn that Qunari!” she swore, pulling the necklace off with a jerk and reaching for one of the cloth napkins that remained from lunch, pressing it to his wound without a second thought.

He hissed again, and Cassandra grasped his shirtfront.

“Stay still!” she ordered, and he sucked in another breath for an entirely different reason as her free hand moved from his shirt to underneath it and around his ribs, holding him in place.

She was so close he could smell just how long she’d been without a bath, but they’d definitely both smelled worse before, and beyond the tang of sweat and sick a scent flared through his nose that could only be unique to her. Leather and steel and forest, sharp and tangible and as mesmerizing as the rest of her.

_Maker, so beautiful._

Her head snapped up, and Varric realized too late he’d said that last part out loud.

“Uh…”

He could have punched himself repeatedly in that moment, preferably until he past out. Smooth, Tethras, real smooth. But as he opened his mouth to try again, warm, firm lips pressed a kiss to his cheek, and what speech capabilities he had disappeared entirely. Cassandra pulled back just enough to meet her gaze with his, eyes searching.

She must have found what she was looking for, because seconds later her lips crashed into his.


	8. Chapter 8

He’d written plenty of scenes where a character was kissed senseless, but never had he thought it’d ever apply to him.

Until now.

Maker help him, Cassandra Pentaghast was a _fucking amazing_ kisser.

The crush of her initial kiss increased at his reciprocation, and the cloth against his chest fell forgotten as her arms moved to wrap around his neck, her teeth skating across his lower lip. White-hot heat cracked through him like a bolt from a mage’s staff at the nip and he growled. She smiled, and he tilted his head, tongue tracing her own lips, seeking entrance.

She growled this time, and it nearly undid him. Her and him, like that? Impossible. Impossibly hot, Varric amended, tongue sliding against hers.

He wasn’t sure who pulled away first, but as she panted, cheeks red and lips full, he wanted to pull her back in and never let go.

Her blush was…cute, adorable really, but she wasn’t meeting his gaze.

“Cassandra?”

“I–” she tried, failed, then swallowed and found his eyes.

The worry that had crept in shattered under the weight of emotion he saw there. Want, confusion, and worry of her own.

“You have been…more than I expected. The possibility was always there I suspect, but it took me by surprise nonetheless. I do want it– I just–”

He waited, but when it became apparent she wasn’t sure what else to say, he chose his words very carefully.

“Look, people are always too quick to label these things. Whatever’s happening here, I’m eager to see where it takes us if you are. But first, let’s get you well, all right?”

His hand rose, cradling her face, thumb skimming across the jagged scar found on her cheek.

She leaned into the touch, and he smiled.

“Very well. I am eager, too,” she agreed, but bit her lower lip after a moment and he forced himself to focus.

“Seeker?”

“I would not be…adverse to another kiss, if you are willing?”

 _Willing?_ Andraste’s tits this woman would be the death of him.

“Cass…”

The averted gaze she’d adopted after making the request snapped back at her shortened name. Surprised, but not opposed. And before he knew it she’d closed the space between them, mouth moving eagerly against his as she shuffled closer. One of her hands pressed too close to the cut on his chest, however, and he pulled back on reflex with a hiss.

“Oh! I’m sorry, I–” she started, but ended when he grasped the offending hand and turned it to press a kiss to the underside of her wrist.

She gasped at the touch, and he smiled. Good to see some of the tricks up his sleeve still worked.

“Is that how it works in Nevarra, Seeker?” he asked, a tease in his tone.

“How what works?”

“Oh, the age-old story. Girl meets boy, girl slices boy with a dragon tooth to stake her claim, girl kisses boy–”

She scoffed, taking her hand back, but after a moment a gleam sparked in her eyes that told him he was in trouble.

“It only works when the girl really wants the boy.”

Her smile was downright sinful. Maker’s breath, he was even more doomed than he’d thought.

But as he reached in for a swift but heady kiss, leaving her trying to grab his shirt again as he pulled away with a promise to bring back supper, Varric was comforted by the thought that she seemed just as doomed as he was.


	9. Chapter 9

Supper was a simple broth and a still warm bread slice, which he ate without really considering the taste, other appetites much more appealing.

More than once he’d look up and catch her staring at him. She’d quickly turn back to her meal every time, and it was so precious a thing to be that shy after everything that a burst of warmth spread through him each time he caught her.

Eventually, the food ran out, and as he took her bowl, it was hard not to notice the slump of her shoulders, half-shut eyes, and the yawn she tried to suppress. It seemed their activities had only added to her fatigue, and while he couldn’t make himself feel sorry completely, he knew she still wasn’t completely recovered.

“All right, I’d say that’s lights out,” he proclaimed, grasping her pillow and easing it and her back onto the mattress. That she didn’t object spoke for itself, but as he saw to stirring up the fire once more, blowing out candles and removing his boots, she spoke up.

“Varric?”

“Hm?”

“You don’t have to sleep on the floor. I mean, there is room enough. I doubt I’m contagious anymore, and you have yet to show symptoms anyway so–”

“You sure?” he asked, heart beating much faster than he’d ever acknowledge. It was as blunt and logical as ever, so very Cassandra, but the fact remained that she was inviting him to sleep next to her, an intimate act no matter how it was spun. No woman had ever asked that of him before, and the thought of holding this particular woman close as they slept was enough to leave him aching. But he had to be certain…

Rather than reply, however, she grabbed her pillow and slowly scooted to the other side of the bed, leaving an open space for him.

She arched a brow, expectantly, and he smiled.

“Yes, ma’am.”

Walking closer, though, he considered his clothes. It’d been the last thing on his mind until then, but he preferred to sleep shirt off. His hands hesitated on the sash around his tunic when he heard Cassandra sigh.

“Everyone in Skyhold knows what your chest looks like Varric, do what you must and get over here.”

He chuckled.

“Well then, far be it from me to keep a lady waiting.”

With practiced ease the sash was undone, and his shirt followed quickly after. He considered taking off his pants too just to see her reaction, but after he’d discarded his socks and caught her eye he reconsidered.

Chest hair bared or not, not many in Skyhold had seen his entire torso uncovered. He knew his lot was better than most, dwarves especially had a penchant as they grew older for potbellies. The stocky build had been unavoidable, but he’d managed to keep relatively trim as his rogue stunts demanded.

Under the Seeker’s gaze, however…

“Cassandra? If you keep looking at me like that I’m going to insist I sleep on the floor.”

She started, and a blush crept up her cheeks.

Perhaps he really should just sleep on the floor again, Varric thought, that flush of skin just as distracting as the appreciation in her eyes. But his back twanged at the thought, and so he took a long breath before placing his pillow and pulling back the quilt, sliding in beside her.

The bed could fit two, but it was cozy, and her breath mingled with his as he turned on his side to mirror her position.

“Fair warning, if you get handsy I will defend myself,” he wagged a finger.

She snorted, rolling her eyes.

“Same goes for you, dwarf.”

“Glad we understand each other.”

A pause.

“Now, c’mere.”

The words were barely out of his mouth before she’s on him, tucking herself into his side as he rolled onto his back, her body practically blanketing him. Her head came to rest where his chest and neck met, one arm possessive around his middle. His own arm found the curve of her waist, a large hand spanning from her ribcage to just above her hip, like it was made to rest there.

The hem of her shirt didn’t quite meet her small clothes, and she tensed when his fingers swept the soft skin between.

“Sorry,” he moved back to a more respectable position, but she shook her head against his chest.

“It’s not you. It– It’s been some time since–”

“Say no more,” he stopped her, bending to press a kiss to her temple. She visibly relaxed under the touch, and he was grateful.

“It’s been longer than I care to admit for me too. I wouldn’t mind taking things slow.”

She raised her head, one arm bracing herself against his chest, but still careful of the cut her necklace had left.

Her eyes searched his, her face illuminated only by the flicker of the firelight. If he’d not already been captivated before, he would have been then, utterly, completely.

“I know _she_ remains a…convoluted part of your life, but if this is go to further, I need to know you are here, with me.”

Cassandra didn’t say the name, she didn’t have to, but wrapped in the Seeker’s arms, the choice was an easy one. What they had, what they could have, it was bigger than anything he’d tried to have before, and he’d be worse than a fool to give it up.

“I’m with you,” he answered finally, clearly, no doubt. “And you? Once we leave this room people are going to talk.”

To say they’d stand out would be an understatement. Half of Thedas would know by lunchtime if he held her hand at breakfast. And he wanted to hold her hand, press a kiss to her cheek to break that perpetual scowl, wrap an arm around her waist on the way to supper. He wanted it all. He didn’t want to be someone to be ashamed of being with, not again.

“I stopped caring what people thought of my actions a long time ago. Anyone who is not happy for us can go hang.”

Cassandra sealed their accord with a kiss, and he sighed into the touch, relief flooding him and mixing with the lust her touched stirred to spur his lips away from hers to attach to her jaw, nipping at the sensitive junction where it met her neck. She groaned at the sensation, pressing even closer into him. 

So much for taking things slow.

But as Varric continued his ministrations, he knew she was doing her best to hide her exhaustion with enthusiasm, and he slowed, traveling back up her neck and kissing her mouth once more before withdrawing. He’d tried his best to replace passion with affection, and she sighed as he chanced one last kiss to her forehead before laying back.

She was more on top of him than the mattress now, but he forced himself to think of unpleasant things to stem the residual fire in his own blood. The overgrown Nug Evie preferred to ride and its disgusting eating habits were doing the trick when Cassandra moaned and nearly undid all his hard work.

“You are incorrigible.”

“I’ve been called worse.”

“I believe I have called you worse, and I should call you worse for stopping.”

He laughed.

“You’re one to talk, Seeker. No more trying to seduce me until you’re well.”

She yawned, cuddling close, warm and real.

“Spoilsport.”

He gaped, starting to protest when her soft snore effectively ended the argument.

Sighing in defeat, Varric relaxed further into the bed, whispering, “Sweet dreams,” before falling asleep himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only the epilogue to go now. Thank you everyone for reading!


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everybody for reading! This has been so much fun to write. :)

Most were out of commission for a solid week before slowly returning to Inquisition business as usual, so naturally the Seeker was slicing up training dummies in half that time.

She hadn’t returned without his protests, of course, but a sound kiss and a promise that she would be careful had placated him somewhat. Or distracted him, Varric wasn’t sure which was more accurate.

That distraction lasted well into the day, making the work he really did need to get back to incredibly difficult to complete. Sorting through one mountain of paperwork after another, however, was when he came upon the package.

The tea he knew she liked would make a spoon stand at attention in the mug. Prior to their relationship’s recent developments, he’d also known it was only matter of time before he got on her bad side again; so on a whim in his business missives he’d called in a favor for the best hair-raising leaves Nevarra could offer. Weeks later a package had arrived, but Corypheus had been a bigger problem, and he’d forgotten all about it.

Turning the box over in his hands, Varric frowned, wondering.

He was well aware of her romantic heart, and while they weren’t labeling what they had any time soon, he found himself wanting to dote all the same. But would it be enough?

His want to check in on her ultimately overpowered his worry, so there he was, holding onto the small, black wood box anxiously as he tried not to run down the Hall’s stairs towards the training grounds.

The sound of metal on metal clanged in his ears as he drew closer, and he realized just whom was sparring.

_“I’ll be careful Varric.”_

Yeah right, he sighed, swallowing his irritation long enough to join the onlookers at the corral, climbing up to sit on the fence line for a better vantage point.

The Seeker’s proficiency at swordplay was not a secret by any means, but she always drew a crowd when exercising with the Inquisition’s forces. Today was no different, and this time she stood against what looked like two newer recruits. If they’d been in Skyhold long, they’d have known better than to spar with her.

She’d given up her shield for two swords, an almost predatory gleam in her eyes as her opponents sweated and gulped for air, one charge obviously already a failure.

Fish in a barrel, Varric smirked, settling in for the show. No way was he going to interfere now.

“Well?! Is that all you’ve got?!” The Seeker shouted, taunting.

The larger of the two men scowled, taking a step forward, shield rising, before lunging at her with a yell.

The fool was on his back before he realized it, twin blades like scissors at his throat.

“Anger is good soldier, it will keep you alive. But rage? It blinds you, leaves you open to a smarter fighter. Remember that!”

She lifted the swords, driving them both a mere hair’s breadth away from his ears.

Cheers crashed around Varric as she offered the properly schooled man an arm up, and he smiled at the mix of awe and terror on the soldier’s face as he rejoined his smarter colleague.

“You’re dismissed! Wash the dirt I dragged you through off and see to your other duties!”

The beaten men happily scrambled out and away from the grounds, the crowd slowly dispersed, but Varric remained, catching her eye with an arched brow.

She almost looked surprised and just a little guilty to find him there, and he made sure to look his most disgruntled as she approached. The height of the fence he still sat on made him taller than her for a change, and he used it to his advantage.

“You weren’t supposed to see that,” she glanced at him before tugging off her gauntlets.

“You just couldn’t help yourself could you? You were only throwing up your guts a few days ago–”

“I know, and I did mean to be ease back–”

“But you don’t look too bad, and I suppose Cullen’s boys need reminding of who’s the best warrior around here,” he kept talking, and couldn’t stop his smirk as her eyes snapped back to his.

“And I am glad you’re feeling better, Cassandra,” his smirk became a smile, reaching to catch one of her hands to place a kiss on her knuckles.

She flushed at the attention, and he offered her the box. They hadn’t really gone over how they’d approach public displays of affection, but they’d have to discuss it later because she’d already taken the present with a confused frown, glancing at him as she slowly opened the lid.

The thick, sharp scent hit both their noses at once, and her eyes went wide, jaw slack.

“Varric, how did you–”

“I took an educated guess. You’ve always liked the stuff that’d set a mere mortal’s teeth on edge, so I figured that taste had to come from somewhere. I’ve got a couple contacts in Nevarra, one of them owed me, and I called in the favor. I won’t go into just how that specific blend found its way into their and then my hands, but if it’s what you remember then it’s worth–”

The kiss was chaste, but full of emotion that left him weak and happy to be sitting. His arms found their way around her waist, and remained there when she pulled away.

“I take it you like it?” he chuckled, and she smirked.

“Yes, Varric, very much.”

“Good, because you know everybody’s staring. I’d hate to think we’ve given them a show just because you were trying to spare my feelings over giving a lousy gift.”

She glanced around, seeing the truth in his words as other Skyhold residents too quickly returned to their work, but looked back with a shrug.

“Since when have I ever spared your feelings?”

He laughed outright, pressing his forehead to hers.

“Fair enough.”

“They call it ‘Black Drake’ back in Nevarra, sold only in select shops. It is one of the few things I truly miss from there.”

“Good to know,” he pressed a kiss to her cheek, smiling when she shuffled closer, “Anything else I should know?”

She paused, and he moved back, searching her face.

“Seeker?”

“There might have been a crow waiting for me in my quarters after I left yours.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yes. Leliana sends her regards, stating that I should give my favorite author a kiss from her for your excellent care.”

His brows met his hairline, lips pursed, trying to hide his amusement at her annoyance.

“What did you send back?”

Her gaze met his, and she grinned. Cassandra “Disgusted-Noise” Pentaghast, actually grinned at him.

“I told her to kiss her own favorite author. You are mine.”

He kissed her this time.


End file.
